


Promise

by ericaismeg



Series: 30 Days of Writing [30]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 30 Days of Sterek, 30 Days of Writing, Alive Allison, Alive Erica Reyes, Alive Laura Hale, Alive Vernon Boyd, Alive Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Alternate Universe - Future, Angst with a Happy Ending, Derek is a sap, Fluff, Future Fic, Hostage Derek Hale, Hostage Situations, Hostage Stiles Stilinski, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know what to tag this as, M/M, Promises, Romantic Derek, Scared Stiles, post show, post-3B
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-03 01:12:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1725710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ericaismeg/pseuds/ericaismeg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles and Derek are held hostage by a witch for seven days, promises are made. Promises are kept.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise

**Author's Note:**

> **The last day of this[ writing challenge.](http://foxerica.tumblr.com/post/84097258077/felicitygs-spontaneousfangasm)**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Day Thirty.
> 
> Word of the day: promise.
> 
> _Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. I can't believe we made it._
> 
> (Please be advise: Stiles and Derek are held against their will in this fic, but let's face it. I don't go into details about that. It's all about their emotions and conversations for me.)

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

            “Derek, I’m scared.”

            Derek freezes. He has never, not once, heard Stiles say he was scared. They had dealt with his crazy uncle, Jackson as a Kanima, Matt as a murderous classmate, Jennifer as the Darach who committed human sacrifices (one of which was almost Stiles’ father), Gerald, an Alpha pack, and the Nogitsune. Stiles had always been moving, had always stood tall, and hadn’t let anything freak him out. He had yelled, fought, and outfoxed all of the dangers. He hadn’t backed down.

            Now they’re being held hostage by a witch, who wrapped Derek in rope that burned Derek’s skin with wolfsbane whenever he tried to move. They’d been given food and water, which Derek had cautioned Stiles to take in slowly.  The witch, naturally, only provided food and water once a day. This is their third day here, locked away in an old woman’s basement.

            Derek can’t see Stiles’ face. No, that would’ve been too kind. So he reaches out, not for the first time, to wrap his fingers around Stiles’. They are back to back, and Derek hates every minute he can’t soothe Stiles’ worries. He feels them, smells them, and wants to get rid of them.

            His skin crawls with the notion that he can’t get out of this. He wants to wrap himself up in Stiles’ arms; wants to bury his face into Stiles’ neck and cling to him. He doesn’t want to ever let go. They’ve been through so much, and Stiles doesn’t need to go through more.

            “It’s going to be okay,” Derek whispers. “Scott and the pack know that she has us. They’ll find us, Stiles.”

            “Promise?”

            It’s the first time Derek has heard Stiles sound as though he’s at the end of his rope for hoping that everything will, one day, be okay. He closes his eyes as he exhales deeply. He wishes he knew what to do, knew how to get out of these ropes. But the witch had managed to tie them up well enough that the wolfsbane is slowly drawing on all of Derek’s energy. Derek squeezes Stiles’ fingers. It pushes the rope into his skin and he winces. But it’s Stiles and Stiles needs comfort more than Derek.

            “If we get out alive, I promise that I’ll buy you the biggest chocolate milkshake we can find in the whole state,” Derek whispers. It’s a promise he can keep. He can’t promise Stiles that they will be okay. God, he wants to. There’s nothing else he wants to promise more, but he can’t.

            Stiles snorts a little and then asks, his voice still tired, “What if I want a strawberry one?”

            “You can have both,” Derek says immediately. He feels tension leave the air. Just a little. But it’s enough to know that Stiles isn’t going to give up just yet.

            “And I...I promise you,” Stiles starts, “that I will only use your apartment key for emergencies like you asked.”

            Derek thinks about all the times Stiles had barged in unannounced. He smiles, barely. Derek would kill to be in his apartment with Stiles walking in, mid-sentence, and halfway done a story that he knows Derek had been listening to as he walked up the stairs. “Don’t promise that. I like that.”

            “Yeah, because it gives you something to complain about,” Stiles teases. “You like brooding and grumbling. _You_ enjoy being an old grandpa.”

            “Yeah, something like that.” Derek winces, when Stiles shifts and the digs into his skin a little more. He inhales sharply.

            Stiles yelps, “Oh my god, Derek!”

            He lets go of Derek’s hands. Stiles tries to swivel his head around, but Derek knows he can only see him out of the corner of his eye. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

            “You needed it,” Derek mutters. He hates that part of him is relieved because the sting of the wolfsbane is bothering his wrists and there’s a little relief. “It helped.”

            Stiles groans and throws his head against Derek’s by accident. “Fuck, sorry. I just...Derek, I never want to be the cause of any of your pain.”

            Derek sighs, shifting his head to lean back on Stiles’ shoulder. He presses as close as his position will allow him. It’s not close enough. It never is. “You never are.”

            “But the Nog—”

            “No.” The word is soft and final. “Don’t you dare go there, because that wasn’t you. God, Stiles, if I could get us out of here, I would.”

            The rope goes around Derek’s hands, his feet, and his upper arms just along the seam of his T-shirt. If he moved and the rope dropped, he’s not sure he could get it back up again. It would mean wolfsbane burning into his skin for hours. The witch had only visited them once a day so far. Stiles had metal cuffs on his wrists, chains around his chest and feet as well. They’d learned the hard way that wolfsbane also covered them. Mistletoe hung above them to remind them that the witch knows all of Derek’s weaknesses.

            Stiles kept telling Derek to not hurt himself, to not get them out. He already knows that the wolfsbane occasional touch not only burns but weakens him. Derek tried hard to break free, but then the witch encircled them in mountain ash and had promised that even Stiles could not break it.

            “When—if—we get out alive, I promise you that I’ll show you how to play the XBox with Scott and I,” Stiles murmurs. “Isaac will kick your ass, and then he’ll silently gloat about it. But that’s nothing new.”

            Derek lets out a small chuckle. He looks at the mistletoe hanging above him. Funny that for humans, sharing a kiss beneath mistletoe is a cute tradition, and it’s poison for werewolves. Derek had asked Stiles about an hour ago if he’d come up with any ideas on how to get them out. His answer was the same as it had been the past 72 hours—’No’. “I’ll show you what it’s like to run really fast. I know you never like climbing on Scott, but I—”

            “Yes,” Stiles says, with a smile in his tone. “I would like that. God, there’s so much I would like to do. “What if I never get a chance to do any of it?”

            “What would you like to do?” Derek asks, trying not to acknowledge the fact that this witch is extremely powerful. When he takes his next breath, he tries to memorize Stiles’ scent. The truth is even his wolf senses couldn’t sort through all the scents that makes Stiles smell the way he does. He’s just Stiles. And Derek wishes he couldn’t sense the fear.

            “I just want to read the newspaper on a Sunday morning, without worrying that I’m going to read about another cougar attack,” Stiles murmurs. “I want to hit up the arcade and watch Erica get bored of winning, Lydia outsmarting all of us, Allison killing us all in those stupid hunter games. I want to cook with Boyd, or flip through old photo albums with Laura and Cora. I want...”

            Derek picks up, because he knows that Stiles is becoming more sad than scared. “I want to hear you beginning your stories when you’re getting out of your car, and for you to bring me over another bag of DVDs for us to watch. I want you to challenge me on trivia while we’re drunk and I want to dance with you at _Jungle_.”

            Stiles inhales. It’s subtle, and Derek’s sure if he isn’t a werewolf, he wouldn’t have heard it. Then Stiles’ fingertip brushes Derek’s hand and stays there. “I want that. God, that sounds nice. Would you dance really close? Make all the other guys in the club jealous because _I_ got you?”

            Derek lets out a laugh. He doesn’t mean to, but it’s Stiles, and Stiles makes him laugh. He nods, his head awkwardly moving on Stiles’ shoulder. “Yeah, I would dance really close. Danny would have to teach me how to dance though.”

            Stiles snorts. “Danny’s a fucking ridiculous dancer. If you learned moves from him, people would literally _weep_ watching _you_.”

            “How’s that?” Derek asks, confused.

            “You are so...so...gorgeous. I mean, if you knew how to dance, Gods would cry because they finally made the world’s most attractive person,” Stiles tells him, sounding highly amused and a little torn about it.

            Derek’s smiling and he doesn’t even care. Goddammit, Stiles thinks he’s attractive? How the hell could he not smile at that? He feels his stomach do a little flip, and then he says, “I think, if that were the case, the Gods would be weeping because they made two.”

            “Two?”

            “Yeah, you.”

            “Oh. Oh my god, Derek, that was so lame! You can’t _piggy back_ off my pickup line—compliment, my compliment,” Stiles corrects himself, but he’s laughing and Derek can feel more tension leave the room. It feels good.

            The knot in his chest loosens a little. “Pickup line, huh? I could do better than that.”

            “Ha. I would _love_ to see you try. Oh man, and you seducing someone?” Stiles starts laughing a bit harder now, and his fingertip leaves Derek’s hand. Before Derek can be sad about it though, Stiles is shifting and reaching out again.

            “Is that a challenge, Stilinski?” Derek demands.

            “Whatever, Hale. I think out of either of us here, I have the better moves, and that is sad.”

            Derek, amused, switches the topic. “I’ll go dancing with you, Stiles.”

            There’s a moment of silence, which Derek doesn’t find upsetting. Stiles’ fingertip is stroking the length of Derek’s index finger and it feels so comforting. Stiles finally says, “Can we go to _Fancy’s_?”

            “I’ll buy you everything on the menu if that would make you happy,” Derek promises quietly.

            Stiles snorts. “I know I eat a lot, but I can’t eat that much.”

            “Play nice and maybe I’ll even buy you a _whole_ cheesecake from _Mama’s Bakery._ ”

            Stiles laughs, but it doesn’t last long. “Derek, do you think that the pack is going to figure out a way to save us?”

            Fun time is over, and Derek squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t want to think about it, as he whispers, “I hope so, Stiles. I hope so.”

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

            It’s the fifth day of being trapped in the stupid witch’s basement. She has just left them, cackling like a walking cliché, and Derek can feel the hope of rescue slipping out of Stiles. He wants to fix it somehow, but he can’t figure out what to do.

            “I could sing,” Derek says after a while.

            “No, dear god, _no_. I’ve heard you when you think you’re alone in the shower,” Stiles says, chuckling suddenly. “You’re not that great. For someone with super hearing, you’d think you would know that.”

            “Shut up, asshat,” Derek mutters, feeling discouraged.

            “No, it was a nice thought. Sorry. I just...”

            “Am tied up against your will by a psychopathic witch? Yeah, I get the feeling.”

            “Do you believe in heaven or hell?” Stiles asks, abruptly.

            Derek debates how to answer this. He settles with, “My mother told me there’s no afterlife for those who are supernatural. She never denied it for humans, so maybe.”

            “I don’t believe that you don’t get a chance at an afterlife just because you’re supernatural,” Stiles mutters. “That wouldn’t be fair. I mean, I know I don’t believe in God or anything, but it’s comforting thinking there’s more to this world than nothing.”

            Derek gets it. He also hates that Stiles is thinking about it. He’s starting to doubt the fact that the pack knows how to get to them. It’s unlike Stiles, but Derek also knows why he has no hope. Part of him thinks this is the world’s way of punishing him for the things he had done while possessed by the Nogitsune. He’s accepted that this is his punishment. It’s a feeling that Derek knows all too well.

            He hates seeing Stiles have it though, hates knowing that none of it was Stiles’ fault but there’s nothing he could say to make it better. So Derek reaches out, and lets out a gasp at the burning of the rope, and grabs onto Stiles’ hand anyway. “Stiles—”

            “Maybe the supernatural world goes to hell, and that’s supposed to be their punishment or something,” Stiles murmurs. He leans his head back against Derek’s and adds, “I don’t want to go to heaven.”

            “Stiles,” Derek says, frowning. “You have fought so hard to protect people. The Nogitsune _wasn’t_ you. You will go to heaven, if such a place exists.”

            “No,” Stiles tells him firmly. “I don’t want to go to heaven without you.”

            Derek is floored. He can’t describe the rush of emotions that run through him, can’t figure out what half of them mean.

            “If we get out of here alive, I promise I’ll tell you everything I’ve never told you,” Stiles whispers. His voice cracks though and Derek’s trying to move the lump in his throat. He grips Stiles’ hand harder. “I promise I’ll come clean.”

            “About,” Derek starts. It takes him a minute to finish with, “What?”

            “Later, later when the pack has rescued us. Or we’re in hell, burning together.”

            Derek is overwhelmed, but he manages to whisper, “Tell me now. I can’t strangle you.”

            Stiles starts to laugh and it fills the air with happiness. Derek’s lump in his throat doesn’t go away, but it loosens. Stiles says, “That’s a very good point, you do threaten my life regularly.”

            “I won’t anymore,” Derek says.

            “I know you’d never hurt me,” Stiles responds easily.

            “Stiles—”

            “Later, Derek. When we’re safe,” Stiles tells him.

            “The pack will come, you know that, right?” Derek asks quietly.

            “I hope so, Derek. I sure as hell fucking hope so.”

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

            “I’ll take you away for a week. We can go anywhere, do anything. I have the money from my parents’ life insurance,” Derek tells him on the seventh day.

            Stiles simply says, “I’d rather spend a week with you in your apartment.”

            “Really?” Derek asks, frowning at the cement wall before him.

            The witch had been nice enough to drag them upstairs to use her bathroom. She’d enchanted everything in the room to come alive and keep an eye on them though, so there was no escaping. When Derek had picked up a bobby pin, it’d screamed, ‘Bad wolf, bad wolf!’ and the bathroom door had swung open.

            Now Derek is wondering just how fucking powerful this witch is, and whether or not the pack is going to be able to outsmart her. Stiles had drawn a blank on any game plans, which is so unlike him.

            The witch hadn’t allowed them to face each other. Not even when Stiles had begged.

            Derek had seen his face for all of a minute, and he had memorized it. Stiles looks defeated. It’s not a normal expression for him and he doesn’t like it. Derek’s not ashamed to admit that he had tears in his eyes when he’d seen Stiles today.

            The witch had zapped him with a burning wolfsbane stick and gotten him back into the chair. Derek is too weak to fight today.

            “Just playing video games or watching movies. I could cook for you.” Stiles sounds as though he’s smiling at the thought. “We could curl up and whisper into the night. I could tell you about the stupid shit Scott and I got up to when we were younger—”

            “All your ideas, I bet,” Derek teases.

            “—yes, and you could tell me stories about Laura and Cora. Because the stories Laura has about you are hilarious. It’d be fun to have blackmail information on her. And we could have a Pack Night, and everyone could just curl up together and watch something. We could through popcorn at each other. Oh man, Derek, can you and I bake?” Stiles asks, his voice with more hope than Derek had expected.

            “Yes to all of it,” Derek whispers. “I would give you the stars if I could, Stiles.”

            He hears Stiles’ inhale, he hears the way his heart stops for a second, and feels his entire body go still. Then Stiles asks, his voice thick with emotion, “Do you mean that, Derek?”

            “Every word,” he promises. “How’s _that_ for a pickup line?”

            “You’re an idiot.”

            “But…?” Derek asks.

            “I’ll tell you the thing now,” Stiles says. “The thing I was going to wait to tell you. I’m getting worried this might be my only chance.”

            The feeling of tightness comes back to Derek’s chest as he waits.

            “I think I’m in love with you,” Stiles murmurs.

            It makes Derek want to weep. He clings to the words. He repeats them in his mind, _I think I’m in love with you_. He wants to wrap them up in a blanket and replay them over and over again. Derek wants to marry those words, to attach himself to the sound of Stiles’ saying them forever. He never wants to let go.

            “I’m in love with you too,” Derek finally says when he has a chance to start breathing again. “Stiles, I want you to be happy. I don’t want to be stuck here. I don’t want you to be scared, or to lose hope. I want you to go to heaven because you deserve to be with the rest of the angels. I want—”

            “Promise me,” Stiles says suddenly. “Promise me that if we ever get out of here alive, you’ll kiss me up against the wall. Fuck whoever else is there. Promise me, Derek.”

            “Promise.”

            There’s a crash above them and a very familiar growl. _Hello, Erica._

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

            “I’m bored,” Erica says three weeks later, sitting down at a table with Stiles and Derek who hold hands tightly. They share a look. Erica pouts. “I just kicked Jackson’s ass three times in a row. It’s like he’s not even trying.”

            “What game was it this time?” Stiles asks, leaning into Derek who grabs another piece of _Joe’s Pizza_.

            “That silly _Nascar_ one,” Erica says, rolling her eyes. “For someone who drives a fancy car on a regular basis, you’d think he’d know how to stay on the track.”

            Stiles snorts, and points over into the arcade at Lydia. “She seems like she’s having fun.”

            “She outsmarted Scott,” Erica says, laughing. “He gave up and told Isaac to give it a shot. They _tried_ , and I guess that’s all that matters. You guys look like you’re enjoying yourselves.”

            “We are,” Derek says, grinning. “It was a little rough, but this was the perfect solution. Stiles and I predicted that Allison would kill at the hunting games.”

            “Boyd’s giving her a run for her money,” Erica grins. “And I thought all boys excelled at video games.”

            “And then we met you three,” Stiles says, laughing. “The Hale sisters suck though.”

            “That’s not fair!” Cora protests when she walks into the pizzeria. She sets her tokens down onto the table and sits down. “We didn’t have the kind of life where playing video games was normal, so we’re learning.”

            “ _Cora they have air hockey!_ ” Laura screams from the other room.

            Derek glances over at Joe, the owner of the restaurant, and gives him an apologetic look. However, the old man is just smiling and gives him a nod of understanding. Laura skids into the pizzeria.

            “Cora, did you not hear me? You would’ve been too young to remember playing it because Derek broke our table. But _c’mon_ , come. It’s amazing.” And then Laura’s dragging Cora back into the arcade.

            Erica leans forward and quietly asks, “You sure you guys are okay? We keep acting as though that week of misery never happened, but it was only three weeks ago.  I just want to check on you.”

            Derek turns to look at Stiles. God, he could stare at him for the rest of his life. Not being able to see his face for an entire week (the odd glimpses during bathroom breaks hardly count) had been way too difficult. He never wants to do that again.

            Stiles is looking at him, a small smile on his lips. He says, “We’re okay. We have each other.”

            “Yeah, we do.”

            “Oh gross, you’re going to get all sentimental and crap.” Erica stands up. She’s beaming at them though. “When you’re done being cute as shit, come play with us. We miss you.”

            They both nod, but neither look at her as she walks back into the other room.

       “Do you think there’s still more to our story?” Stiles asks, thoughtfully. “More than us being trapped together for a week to finally admit how we feel, I mean.”

            “Yes,” Derek says. He squeezes Stiles’ hand. “We’re meant to fall in love over and over again. No matter what universe we’re in, what situation, I believe you are my soul mate.”

            “Some ‘ _We’ll Always Find Each Other_ ’ crap?” Stiles asks.

            “Exactly that.”

            Stiles beams. He leans forward and steals a quick kiss from Derek. “I’d go to the ends of the Earth for you.”

            “Walk through hell and drag you back out,” Derek murmurs. “Steal the moon and stars for you.”

            “I don’t need the moon and stars.”

            “No?” Derek asks.

            “No, I just need you. No matter where we go, who we become, I just need you.”

            “Promise?”

          “Promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> ABOUT THE FIC:  
> I decided to leave it up to you to decide why they were held hostage, why it wasn't easy for the pack to get to them, how the pack ended up saving them. I know some of you will want to smack me, because details like that are important to you. But I'd rather give you that power, and let this fic be ours.
> 
> IMPORTANT STUFF:  
> Firstly, wow. I made it. I DID 30 DAYS OF STEREK (well, 28 and two days of Berica!). Secondly, I _hope_ the ending was decent enough. Thirdly, I did not mean to throw the word 'promise' around so much.
> 
>  **ANYONE WHO HAS BEEN FOLLOWING THIS SERIES WHILE IT WAS BEING WRITTEN, PLEASE GO[HERE.](http://foxerica.tumblr.com/post/87514937762/thank-you-to-everyone)** This is my official thank you post. If your name is NOT on there, LET ME KNOW [HERE.](http://www.foxerica.tumblr.com/talktome) I want everyone to be able to be on it.
> 
> I love you guys so much. I could not have done this without you. Someone asked me if they could do artwork for this series, and I just want you guys to know: FEEL FREE TO DO WHATEVER YOU WANT, as long as you _promise_ to link me to it when you're done! (Hah, see what I did there?)
> 
> I cannot express my gratitude to each and every one of you. This has been such an incredible journey. And thanks to you guys, I've made the decision to go back to school for Creative Writing! So YAY!
> 
> Tomorrow I will be publishing the first chapter of _Just the Same_. It'll be published every Monday and Thursday until it's complete (it's seven chapters). I hope you stay with me for it, but if our journey ends here, know that I love you and that you are wonderful and I appreciate your support.


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